


At the End of the Day You Know

by ohnoscarlett



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-12
Updated: 2012-03-12
Packaged: 2018-11-01 06:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10915980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoscarlett/pseuds/ohnoscarlett
Summary: It wasn’t a revelation, exactly, more an admission:  Brendon and Spencer would be really hot together.  Spencer takes a leap and lands in way over his head when Brendon actually goes along with it.





	At the End of the Day You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta [](http://cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com/profile)[cloudlessclimes](http://cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com/), the mixer [](http://masterpenguin82.livejournal.com/profile)[masterpenguin82](http://masterpenguin82.livejournal.com/), and the mods of [](http://bandomreversebb.livejournal.com/profile)[bandomreversebb](http://bandomreversebb.livejournal.com/).

**Title:** At the End of the Day You Know  
 **Author:** [](http://ohnoscarlett.livejournal.com/profile)[**ohnoscarlett**](http://ohnoscarlett.livejournal.com/)  
 **Bands (and/or pairings):** Panic at the Disco (Brendon/Spencer)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word count:** 6767  
 **Warnings:** sex, angst  
 **Summary:** It wasn’t a revelation, exactly, more an admission: Brendon and Spencer would be really hot together. Spencer takes a leap and lands in way over his head when Brendon actually goes along with it.  
 **Author notes:** Thanks to my beta [](http://cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com/profile)[**cloudlessclimes**](http://cloudlessclimes.livejournal.com/) , the mixer [](http://masterpenguin82.livejournal.com/profile)[**masterpenguin82**](http://masterpenguin82.livejournal.com/) , and the mods of [](http://bandomreversebb.livejournal.com/profile)[**bandomreversebb**](http://bandomreversebb.livejournal.com/).

Spencer sat at the kit in Brendon’s home studio, hands tingling and skin buzzing from a good session. They weren’t laying anything down yet, still just screwing around and writing everything that popped into their heads, but Spencer had that feeling; if not accomplishment, progress. It was good; it was real.

His eyes slipped closed contentedly as he sat, just breathing in the warm air, sun, and Brendon, and he rolled right into the intro for “Hurricane”. In his head he could see Brendon (and Ian and Dallon, but mostly Brendon, right there front and center) standing just so, hands held high as he clapped the opening cadence. It was pretty, and Spencer tended to revisit the memory frequently, if he was being at all honest with himself.

The thought made him open his eyes and sit up straighter. Brendon was just there, as he often was. Spencer didn’t need to close his eyes to summon an image, and yet, so very frequently, he did. Spencer wondered what Brendon saw when he closed his eyes, and almost immediately went back to “Hurricane”. So what if it was a song about masturbation? Who was behind Brendon’s eyelids? Spencer had a good idea. The driving rhythm, that was all Spencer.

Spencer just sat at his kit for a long time. It wasn’t an epiphany. He knew. He had known for a long time that he essentially carried a big fucking torch for Brendon. But he had never done anything about it, and he was even fairly certain that Brendon knew. It was kind of a joke. They were professionals; they were friends. They would be really hot together.

Spencer was sure that Brendon agreed with that assessment.

***

He spent a lot of time walking around tapping on things. That wasn’t unusual. It was unusual when Spencer wasn’t tapping on everything he could lay his hands on. He had to get it out, and hell, it could have been worse; Spencer’s tapping was often surreptitious and easily ignored. Brendon’s constant singing was not.

It wasn’t that Spencer would go to his kit and beat the hell out of it just so he could get Brendon’s voice out of his head, except... It kind of was. Spencer went to a place outside of himself when he was drumming, really drumming, and not even Brendon could invade.

But Brendon was a drummer too, along with everything else. He didn’t know what torture it was for Spencer to watch him beat on that tom, night after night. It was exquisite torture, and Spencer stored it away in his mind for later nights when he was in the mood to beat himself up a little.

And, well, off.

When they were working, Spencer usually set up a kit to his specifications at Brendon’s house. Brendon had one of his own, but if they were really working, Spencer preferred his own. It was a thing. It also meant that if the mood struck him, Brendon could--and would--hop on the spare.

It was almost like sex--except for the fact that Spencer would be left aroused and unsatisfied when they were through. They moved together, rhythms intertwining, they even breathed in time. It was hot, and sweaty, and Spencer would be left breathless, with a grinning Brendon at his side. It _was_ like sex, and Spencer could practically smell it. The look he often caught in Brendon’s eye didn’t help.

***

Brendon had music playing in his house most of the time. They had been friends for long enough that Spencer could use it as a gauge, to tell Brendon’s mood, his state of mind. He had been fiddling with it lately, skipping haphazardly through albums and turning up the volume practically every time he walked by. He wasn’t nervous, or anxious, exactly. He seemed... antsy. Spencer took his cue.

“Let’s go out tonight,” he announced unceremoniously. Brendon’s head snapped up from where he had positioned himself at the piano. He had been playing, but from the way he sat, Spencer could tell he wasn’t in it for the long haul.

“Out?” Brendon squinted in the fading light. Spencer crossed his arms, rolling his eyes and cocking his hip. He knew it was A Thing He Did. He did it anyway.

“Yes. Out,” Spencer repeated. “You know, leave the house. Go to a club, maybe get some food?”

“ _Oh!_ ” Brendon’s face lit up and he rocked back from the piano. “You mean, like, go _out_ out.”

“Yes. Out,” Spencer laughed. Brendon joined him and it made him feel light, that he could make Brendon happy like that. “Go put some clothes on.”

Brendon looked down at himself.

“I _have_ clothes on.”

“ _Nice_ clothes, Brendon,” Spencer said, shaking his head. “As much as I like the sweatpants and t-shirt combo... Go get pretty.”

“Ah,” Brendon smiled and nodded. “Pretty I can do.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Although my t-shirt is offended that you don’t think it’s pretty too,” Brendon said with a mock pout, stretching out the hem of his ragged Nirvana tee. It may have been Spencer’s, once upon a time.

“Your t-shirt is lovely. Now go find something with buttons.” Spencer laughed as Brendon hopped up from the piano bench and patted his belly. He couldn’t decide if it was to indicate hunger--because Brendon was practically always hungry--or to reassure his shirt of his affection.

“Are you going to change?” Brendon wondered, pausing at the doorway to turn and peer at Spencer critically. “Because if I have to change, I think you should have to change.” He waggled his finger and Spencer grinned.

“Sure. I think I have something here.”

“I’m sure you do,” Brendon replied as he turned away, stripping his t-shirt off over his head as he walked. Spencer watched the sway of his hips and the play of muscle across his shoulders as Brendon slung the shirt through an open door as he passed. His mouth went dry when Brendon reached for his pants, unbuckling his belt and drawing it out of the loops with a dry slither. He cracked it like a whip, chuckling to himself and humming the chorus to “Buttons” by the Pussycat Dolls. Spencer jumped and started to make his way upstairs too. Brendon didn’t like to wait.

Spencer still had a stash of stuff in Brendon’s guest room. Spencer always had a stash of stuff at Brendon’s, no matter where he was; it wasn’t anything new. But when Spencer threw open the door to the guest room closet, it was empty. There were a couple boxes on the floor and some dust bunnies on the shelf, but other than that, nothing. Spencer’s things were gone.

“Brendon,” Spencer yelled down the hallway.

“What?”

“Where’s my stuff?” He moved towards Brendon’s room. Brendon’s voice was muffled, and, well. He could hear him better at the very least.

Spencer knocked once out of some stunted form of courtesy before he pushed open Brendon’s door. Brendon looked up at him from where he had been fastening the buttons on his shirt. It was red. Spencer’s favorite.

“In here,” Brendon jerked his chin at his closet. Spencer hesitated. It was odd that Brendon would move Spencer’s things when they were perfectly out of the way to begin with.

The three steps to Brendon’s closet included a shoulder bump, causing a brief back-and-forth of insults.

“Dickface.”

“Asshat.”

“Douchecanoe.”

“Ooh, good one.”

“Twitter.”

“Of course.”

It didn’t take long for Spencer to find what he was looking for. His few shirts hung neatly at the back of Brendon’s closet, the other things lay in a box in the corner. He couldn’t leave things well enough alone.

“Dude, why is my stuff in here?” Spencer pulled a henley off a hanger and tossed it on the bed. He didn’t have much in the way of strategy, but he figured he could glean a good bit of information out of the silence while he tugged off his t-shirt.

“My mom visited,” Brendon replied lamely, after a minute. Spencer pulled the henley over his head and tossed his hair. “She likes to hang her things in the closet, so I made sure it was empty. Figured you wouldn’t want her messing with your stuff.”

“Yeah, because your mom likes _messing with my stuff_ ,” Spencer said with a leer.

“ _Your_ mom,” Brendon countered, punching him in the arm. Spencer just grinned.

“Let’s go, fucker.”

“Right.”

Spencer drove. He drove because Brendon’s driving made him nervous, but also because Spencer knew where he wanted to go. It was easier than firing up the GPS, or more likely, giving incredibly detailed turn by turn directions to Brendon.

They ended up in a club. It generally wasn’t Spencer’s scene. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he would do it when pressed. It was more the atmosphere he was after. Brendon needed to let some energy out, and a club would serve that purpose nicely.

Spencer made his way to the bar with Brendon bouncing at his side.

“Do you want anything?”

“Get me a Corona,” Brendon answered, complete with helpful hand gestures. Spencer got them each one, and they hovered around the bar while they drank. “I want to dance.”

“Have at it,” Spencer replied, indicating the dance floor with his bottle.

“Come with me.”

“I need more beer,” Spencer said dryly. Brendon threw back his head and laughed. Spencer just smiled and drank some more. Brendon looked at him for a moment and then closed in on the bar again. He returned with tequila. “So this is how we’re playing it.”

“Yep.” Brendon clinked their shot glasses together and watched Spencer out of one eye as they downed their alcohol. “One more.” Spencer took a deep breath as Brendon got them refills, but accepted his when it was offered. He didn’t resist when Brendon grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the dance floor.

Spencer could feel the burn of the tequila in the back of his throat, and the buzz of the alcohol already in his blood. He was nowhere near drunk, but he knew that this was the danger zone. He had the excuse and the liquid courage to back him up, and he was known to go ahead and do some stupid shit. So was Brendon. It was a bad combination.

But Brendon was so tempting. The flashing lights made him shine, and he moved with a surety and confidence that had been hard won over the years. And he dragged Spencer with him. The entire internet could attest that Spencer danced kind of like Elaine from Seinfeld on a good day. But Brendon put his hands on his hips, helped him move to the rhythm. Spencer knew rhythm. Brendon just got him started, and then twisted away.

Something flared in Spencer’s gut. He reached out for Brendon, inches away, but so far. Spencer’s hands found Brendon’s hips, felt the missed beat as he faltered for a second then continued to dance. Spencer drew him closer, so they danced together even as Brendon faced the crowd. His hands slipped onto skin as Brendon moved, tightening involuntarily at the feel of sweat damp heat under his fingers. Brendon glanced over his shoulder, the motion throwing him off balance enough to stumble even closer to Spencer. Spencer used the momentum to pull Brendon in tight, press their bodies together in the dark. It made Spencer’s breath catch in his chest, the feeling of Brendon moving against him. It made him bold. He dropped his forehead to Brendon’s shoulder and spoke in his ear.

“You’re so hot like this,” Spencer hissed. He felt Brendon hesitate again and for a moment Spencer was frozen in horrified silence. But then Brendon moved, arching his back and pressing further into Spencer’s grip, and Spencer breathed in relief. His hands slid around Brendon’s body, feeling all the curves and angles, the muscles moving under his fingertips. Spencer breathed on Brendon’s neck, hoping for the right reaction, and biting down when Brendon ground his hips back against him.

He couldn’t hear it over the music, but Spencer could feel Brendon’s moan rumbling throughout his whole body. His hips jerked and he almost came right there in his pants on the dance floor. He could see Brendon smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“You asshole.” Brendon just smiled wider. “Have you had enough?”

Brendon turned to look at Spencer briefly before grabbing his hand and dragging him off the dance floor much the same way as he got him out there in the first place.

Spencer shivered. Outside of the press of bodies it was cold, but Brendon’s hand was hot in his and he let him tug him along. Spencer was surprised that he wanted to leave so quickly, but Brendon made a beeline for the car and hopped in when Spencer unlocked it.

Spencer sat in the driver’s seat for just a second before Brendon was on him. His mouth was hot and insistent, and frankly, Spencer was a little startled that he hadn’t had to work harder. Brendon pulled back, a wide grin and quirking eyebrows completely distracting Spencer from his hands. He gasped when Brendon got his pants open, and Brendon laughed, delighted. He had pretty much dived on Spencer through the passenger door, but then he wiggled and wriggled and squirmed, backing away carefully before he went down on Spencer right there in the parking lot.

Spencer was sure that if anyone was to look at his face in that moment he would have appeared entirely shocked. He had to concentrate for a minute to be sure he was actually breathing. Brendon took no prisoners. He bobbed and licked and sucked on the head of Spencer’s cock until he moaned, throwing away courtesy and grabbing a handful of Brendon’s hair to slow him down. It didn’t really work the way Spencer intended.

Brendon moaned in response and Spencer could feel it all the way down to his toes. His hips bucked and Brendon moaned again, as if in encouragement. So Spencer gave up. He held on to Brendon’s hair and fucked up into his mouth. Brendon’s jaw went slack and his eyes rolled up a little. He made little grunting noises every time Spencer’s cock hit the back of his throat.

It didn’t take long; far and away too quick for any pride points.

“Brendon, gonna come, gonna come, gonna—“ Spencer tried tugging at Brendon’s hair to no avail. Brendon stayed stubbornly put and Spencer came in his mouth with a gasp. Brendon sat back on his heels up in the passenger seat, looking contemplative. Spencer just watched in a dim post-orgasmic haze as he tilted his head back and swallowed slowly, like he was knocking back a shot. Spencer didn’t know whether to be revolted or turned on. The weak twitching of his dick made the decision for him. “That was the dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Brendon smiled wide and filthy.

“Get in the back.”

Spencer blinked a couple times before he started moving, way faster than he assumed possible given the circumstances. He didn’t even bash his head against the roof. Brendon was right behind him, pushing and then pulling and tugging at Spencer to get him where he wanted. Spencer found a bemused smile on his face, partly due to the recent orgasm, of course, but also for how bossy Brendon was turning out to be. He hadn’t stopped to consider the logistics. Not that it mattered. He’d let Brendon do pretty much whatever he wanted.

“It’s been awhile,” Spencer managed to admit.

“Bullshit,” Brendon replied incredulously, wrestling off Spencer’s pants and flinging them onto the floor. “I totally caught you fucking Aaron from Foxy.”

“ _Jesus_ , you did not!” Spencer twisted to look over his shoulder.

“Did,” Brendon said coolly. “Jerked off to it for weeks. Where’s my jacket? I might have--”

“There’s lube in the glove box,” Spencer suggested. Brendon turned away with a pat on his ass that left Spencer ducking his head and blushing like a virgin. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“There we go!” Brendon crashed back into the back seat, brandishing Spencer’s emergency lube. Spencer put his head down on his arms and took a deep breath. He could see clearly out the back windshield when he looked up, and took a moment to be grateful that no one appeared to be around. Brendon nudged his way between Spencer’s legs and sat back on his heels again, messing with the lube and getting it everywhere. Some dripped on Spencer’s calf, making him jump. “Sorry.”

“Brendon.”

“What?”

“I meant it,” Spencer began.

“What? I don’t--”

“Oh, never mind.” Spencer gave up trying to explain and just let Brendon touch him. Brendon really didn’t waste any time, his slippery fingers going straight for the goal. Spencer flinched when one finger slid inside easily, and he didn’t know if it was because of the intrusion or the little sound Brendon made when he did it.

“ _God, you’re so tight_ ,” Brendon groaned, wiggling his finger. “Do you want--”

“ _Yes!_ More.” Brendon snickered softly. “Fuck you,” Spencer hissed.

“No, actually,” Brendon laughed. “I’m going to fuck _you_.”

It was Spencer’s turn to groan. He thumped his head back down on his crossed arms and tried to relax as another finger slid in alongside the first. It wasn’t bad, in fact Spencer was generally a big fan of fingering and did it to himself quite frequently. It was just that it was _someone else_ doing it to him that took some getting used to. That it was _Brendon_.

Spencer shuddered when Brendon pulled his fingers out. He felt cold and exposed. The crinkling of a condom wrapper distracted him from his thoughts. Spencer actually had an instant of sadness, hoping that Brendon would have just thrown caution to the wind and fucked him bare. It was phenomenally stupid, tacked on top of the fact that he was having sex with his best friend, which was stupid enough.

Spencer smiled, though, grateful that at least one of them was thinking. Brendon stared at the condom in his hands. At some point he had opened up his pants and they were hanging down around his hips, framing his dick. Spencer had seen Brendon’s dick plenty of times, but he’d never seen him hard. Of course Brendon caught him looking.

“Let me,” Spencer said, reaching for the condom. Brendon’s mouth opened and shut but he didn’t say anything. He just straightened his back and braced himself against the backs of the front seats, arms spread wide. Spencer hooked his fingers into Brendon’s pants and tugged them down to his knees. He glanced up at Brendon’s face and found him watching. Spencer hesitated, but Brendon’s chin raised a fraction, a look that Spencer had seen a thousand times. _Go on._

Spencer flipped the condom over twice before he reached for Brendon again. He had never put a condom on anyone but himself and he was a little awkward and nervous the more he thought about it. So he stopped thinking and just moved. Brendon’s cock was short and thick in his hand. His skin was hot and silky and Spencer couldn’t help but to stroke him a few times, get the feel of it. Brendon’s head sagged back and Spencer appreciated the long line it created before he looked away and rolled the condom down Brendon’s length.

Brendon’s breath hitched and his head snapped back up at the sound of Spencer fumbling for the lube. It was tucked down by Brendon’s knee, dangerously close to being squashed all over the seat. Spencer snagged it and squeezed a generous amount onto his palm, spreading it around with his thumb before slicking it down Brendon’s cock.

Brendon sucked in a breath and grasped Spencer’s arm, stilling him. Spencer let him go, smiling at the crack in Brendon’s cool veneer. But Brendon kept hold of him and steered Spencer back around.

“Like this?” he asked. Spencer just nodded.

Spencer felt Brendon spread him open, his cock nudging against his ass as if asking for permission. Spencer nodded again and took a deep breath. Brendon pushed in slowly but steadily, and Spencer couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips.

“Jesus, Spence,” Brendon gasped. His fingers tightened on Spencer’s hips as he thrust in deeper. “So tight. I didn’t--” Brendon grunted as he bottomed out, his hips flush against Spencer’s ass.

“Wait,” Spencer said hurriedly.

“Okay?” Brendon asked, alarmed. He stroked along Spencer’s sides gently.

“Give me a minute,” Spencer husked out, trying to relax. Brendon’s hands strayed to his ass and Spencer knew that he was looking at where he was buried inside. Spencer groaned, and he could feel his dick twitch, still soft but trying.

“How does it feel?” Brendon’s fingers traced lightly around Spencer’s stretched rim, making him gasp and clench. Brendon grunted and pulled his fingers away.

“Full. Weird,” Spencer admitted. He felt Brendon go still.

“Bad weird?”

“No. Just... different. New.”

“Oh,” Brendon replied softly. He smoothed his hands over Spencer’s ass, shifting slightly.

“Go ahead.”

Brendon pulled back gingerly and started thrusting gently. Spencer took it for a minute but then growled and pushed back. Brendon faltered.

“Come on,” Spencer hissed. “If you’re going to fuck me, then _fuck me_.”

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

“But--”

Spencer snapped his hips and the crack of skin on skin was loud. Brendon took the hint and started thrusting faster, harder. Spencer found himself dizzy for a moment and realized that he was finally getting hard again. He reached down to touch himself, and cried out with Brendon’s next thrust. He had shifted his balance and it hit Spencer just right.

“Right there,” Spencer gasped, jerking his cock as Brendon plunged into him again and again. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t think I could,” Brendon replied. He thrust in deep and ground his hips against Spencer’s ass. Spencer bit back another cry. The head of Brendon’s cock pressed perfectly on his prostate, making Spencer twitch and moan as stars burst behind his eyes. Brendon didn’t give him any respite, pulling back and slamming back in harder and harder until Spencer finally gave up and let go, moaning and babbling. Brendon went right along with him. “So hot, Spence. So hot. I want to _see_ you, see your face.”

Brendon tugged Spencer’s shoulder until he straightened up as much as he could in the cramped space. He planted his hands at the top of the back seat and leaned back against Brendon. Spencer shuddered at the feeling of all that skin, and then again as Brendon snaked a hand around his hip to grasp his cock firmly. Brendon jacked him in time with his thrusts, squeezing mercilessly.

“That’s how you feel,” he said in Spencer’s ear. “Around my cock. So tight.”

“Yes,” Spencer agreed.

“So tight,” Brendon said again.

“ _Yes._ ”

“You like that? You like it tight?”

“Yes!” Spencer practically shouted. “Fuck me harder.”

“You like it hard? You can feel it later, think about it.”

“Never like this. Want to feel you,” Spencer admitted. He didn’t need to tell Brendon about the one disastrous time. Fifteen, fumbling, clueless, and not fun at all. “So good. Want to remember.”

“Won’t forget,” Brendon gritted out, pulling Spencer back further so he practically straddled Brendon’s thighs. “Want to fuck you til you can’t think.”

“ _Can’t think now_ ,” Spencer whined. Brendon laughed and fucked up into him, the new angle easier for him to touch Spencer.

“Can’t believe...” Brendon muttered. “Want to fuck you all night.”

“I... can do that,” Spencer agreed breathlessly. “No plans. But we might... want to move. Don’t want to get arrested.”

“Not moving til you come again,” Brendon protested. Spencer whined as Brendon’s fingers dug into the skin of his hip on one hand and slid across his leaking cock on the other. “Can still taste you,” Brendon mumbled, dragging his tongue across the crest of Spencer’s shoulder. “Want more.”

Spencer bucked in Brendon’s embrace. It was too much, the cock up his ass, stretching him to the limit, the hand on his dick, squeezing and tugging. Spencer felt the orgasm building in his belly, wanting it to wash over him but not wanting it to end.

“ _Brendon_ ,” he warned. “Gonna come, B.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Brendon encouraged, chanting. “Want to feel you come while I’m inside you. Want to feel you come while I’m _still fucking you_. Want to feel it, Spence, come on. Want you to come so hard. Want to see it. Come on, come on. Come for me.”

The instant before Spencer came, Brendon buried himself deep, pulling Spencer down on his cock and thrusting up hard. Spencer was blinded. His body shook and his orgasm crashed through him. He dazedly felt Brendon’s mouth on his neck, muttering wordlessly. There was come everywhere, and Brendon made it worse, dragging a hand through it and pressing it up against Spencer’s belly. Spencer’s skin buzzed pleasantly as Brendon tipped them back up against the back seat, Spencer’s head resting atop his crossed arms, much the same as when they began. But this time Brendon fucked him hard, setting a ferocious pace and slamming his hips into Spencer’s ass with nearly every thrust.

And he babbled.

Spencer should have known.

“Nnnnngh, so hot, Spence. Could feel it. Feel you come. So hard. Got it all over me.” Brendon suddenly pulled his sticky hand back and sucked his fingers. Spencer twitched weakly. “Oh, oh, Spence. So good. Want to--want to come all over you.”

“Do it.”

Brendon pulled out abruptly, making Spencer hiss and turn his head to see what was going on. Brendon gripped the base of his cock tightly with one hand and stripped the condom off with the other, flinging it to the side. Spencer’s eyes widened as Brendon rose up a little, jerking his swollen cock furiously once, twice, before he stiffened and came with a shout, spurting across Spencer’s ass and thighs before tumbling to the floor.

“My house?” Brendon asked weakly.

“Yeah.”

***

Spencer woke feeling like he was soaring, but when he realized he was alone, he crashed, and crashed hard. He should have known. There was no way he could have, but he should have _known_ that Brendon would run. It was what Brendon did when things got difficult--not that he could blame him. Still, it stung.

There was a note in the middle of the kitchen table.

_I’m sorry. I forgot I need to work on some stuff.  
B_

Spencer was struck with a moment of panic, thinking that there was a meeting with the label or something that he had forgotten about. But it was just Brendon, gone without a word. Spencer dropped the note in the trash and went to make a pot of coffee. It was probably best to just let it go; ride it out and see what came of the mess he made.

***

It was lonely in LA with Brendon gone, and frankly, Spencer was tired of being alone. It was pathetic how he longed for him, considering how fast he left. And it hadn’t taken long for Spencer to figure out where Brendon had run off to in such a hurry either.

Brendon had gone running to Sarah.

It had been bittersweet when Brendon and Sarah ended. She had gotten the opportunity to go back to grad school in Michigan. Her undergraduate advisor had a new grant for something she was really excited about, and she took it. At first, they didn’t think it would be that big of a deal--Brendon was gone all the time anyway, so it wasn’t like they didn’t have a mostly long-distance relationship already. But it _was_ different. Sarah wasn’t there when Brendon got home, and she was so often busy with her studies, that they just drifted apart. Brendon had actually sat and cried on Spencer’s living room floor when she sent the ring back.

Spencer was annoyed, then angry, then resolved once he knew where Brendon was. He had left his little one-line note and then taken off without a word. Spencer figured that once he came to grips it wouldn’t be long before things were back to normal. Spencer could deal with rejection.

But Brendon didn’t just roll back on in. Spencer didn’t hear from him and didn’t hear from him for days and he started to worry. Then he got a text from Sarah.

_What did you do to him?_

Spencer rolled his eyes and fought the urge to tell her exactly what he had done to Brendon, in fine detail. But he wasn’t vindictive, and that would have been cruel by anyone’s standards.

 _idk?_ seemed safe enough.

They texted back and forth frequently. Spencer didn’t know if Brendon was aware that Sarah was keeping him informed, but it didn’t seem to matter, since Brendon wasn’t talking to him himself. He went to Sarah to buffer the freakout. She was a known quantity, she was safe even if they weren’t a couple anymore. She could handle his particular brand of crazy and bring him back to ground. For that, Spencer was grateful. He only wished he had something of the kind for himself.

***

Brendon called while Spencer was in the shower or napping or something. One minute there was suddenly a voicemail and he couldn’t remember hearing the phone ring. It made his heart race, and he was cold all over. Brendon had been gone for over a week.

Spencer listened to the message and held his breath. He needed to hear Brendon’s voice. He needed to hear that he was okay directly from the source.

_”Hey Spence, uh... I’m sorry. It was a dick move to take off like that, and, uh, I’m coming home. I can’t sleep for dreaming, and... I just need to come home.”_

It was frustratingly vague. So very Brendon, with his perpetually 14-year-old emotional maturity. It said nothing, and everything, and Spencer dared to hope.

***

He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Brendon had called and Spencer read way too much into it and it had turned into nothing. Brendon wanted to come home so bad? One week turned into two, and two into three, and still Brendon was in Michigan.

Spencer wanted to throw things. He wanted to throw things and break things and generally destroy anything he could get his hands on. He drummed instead.

Spencer pounded on his drums and tore himself apart. Every flaw, every misstep was magnified as he turned things over in his head. Sure, Spencer was a pretty good drummer, but what else did he have to recommend himself to anyone? Why would Brendon come back to LA if he found he was happy with Sarah? She was beautiful and smart and had a real job. Spencer had... a drum kit.

He stopped to catch his breath and pick at a spot on the flesh of his palm that was threatening to blister if he didn’t lay off pretty soon. The stick of pain flashed him back to that night. They had gotten back to Brendon’s house and were gearing up for round two. Spencer lay flat on his back in the middle of Brendon’s California King as Brendon held him down and left a trail of bite marks from his hips to his thighs. Even now, weeks later, Spencer could press at the jutting bone and feel the ghost of the sting of Brendon’s teeth.

“Hips don’t lie,” said Shakira. Spencer hurled his sticks at the wall. His hips didn’t leave him with any truth, though, either.

***

Spencer stood on his front steps for almost an hour before he made up his mind to move. Brendon’s carefully casual text had asked if he would pick him up at the airport, and Spencer had replied that he would. He immediately regretted it.

Everything was going to change when Brendon got back. Spencer didn’t know if it was going to be good or bad, but it was going to be different, that was for sure. They had to talk, and damn it all if that just didn’t sit well. Spencer was very good at playing his cards close to his chest; Brendon was the one who would often show his hand. They hadn’t talked in weeks. It was going to be painful.

It was an easy drive to the airport. Midday traffic was more at an annoying level than “kill me now”. Even with Spencer’s dithering, he arrived in time to meet Brendon in the terminal. He looked pale and unshaven, and Spencer’s stomach flipped the same time as his heart clenched or some shit.

He was fucked, and probably not at all in the fun way.

***

They were strangely quiet. Spencer knew it was because Brendon didn’t know what to say, and for once didn’t say anything at all. As for himself, Spencer didn’t feel the need to break the silence.  
Spencer drove Brendon to his house and left him there. It was good that Brendon was back, but Spencer needed more from him than that. He needed to know that Brendon wasn’t just going to run away again. He thought he knew everything about Brendon; Brendon surely knew everything there was to know about Spencer. The great unknown was the two of them. Spencer had let his dick make the decisions and now he was paying for it. He couldn’t lose Brendon, and he couldn’t lose the band. All he could do was try. And hope.

***

Things remained stilted between them. Weeks went by with only the barest contact and Spencer forced himself to wake up. Brendon didn’t want him; he would be lucky if he still wanted him in the band. So Spencer focused on his drumming. He drummed until his hands bled, then he wrapped them up, took some Tylenol, and went right back at it.

Finally, Brendon called, and it didn’t have anything to do with business.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked bluntly. Spencer’s heart raced and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths before responding calmly.

Brendon met him at the door looking sheepish. Spencer just shrugged and kept the eye contact to a minimum as he passed. He heard Brendon sigh as he closed the door.

“I have to get over myself.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Spencer replied with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“Do you want to smoke?” Brendon asked, tugging on the hem of his t-shirt. Spencer shrugged noncommittally. It was a classic avoidance maneuver. Whatever.

Brendon disappeared momentarily to go retrieve his stash, coming back to the living room with hands overfull, fumbling. Spencer reached out and snagged the lighter before it crashed to the floor as Brendon sank to his knees. The sight of him made Spencer’s traitorous cock twitch, but he ignored it in favor of watching Brendon roll a joint.

They ended up sitting side by side on Brendon’s couch, watching “Office Space” or something equally inane that Spencer has seen a hundred times before but can’t quite place.

“I’m sorry,” Brendon croaked, passing their second joint. Maybe it was the third. Spencer took it and inhaled deeply, letting smoke out in a slow stream instead of responding to Brendon’s apology. “I’m sorry for taking off on you. I’m sorry for not telling you where I was going and then for not calling. Or emailing. Or texting. Or whatever. I’m sorry for a thousand little things.”

“Are you sorry you—“ Spencer began.

“No,” Brendon interrupted. Spencer knew Brendon was looking at him intently, but he stubbornly avoided looking back. “I got scared,” he said softly. “You were looking at me, and all of a sudden I could see in your eyes everything that I had wanted and had been pushing down for so long. You were looking at me and—“

“I’ve always been looking at you,” Spencer replied tartly. The remains of the joint threatened to burn him so he crumbled it between his fingers, scattering bits all around.

“I know,” Brendon admitted. “I just didn’t want to see it. I was afraid that if we got together it would affect the band. I couldn’t…”

“So that’s what it’s come down to.” Spencer brushed his hands off on his pants.

“No. Going to Sarah made me remember why I wanted to be with you in the first place. It was for the band, sure, but it was you. I wanted to be with you, band or no band.”

Spencer finally turned to look at Brendon. His eyes were bright, cheeks pink, his lush mouth damp and red from biting his lip. It was Brendon at his most vulnerable, most desirable, and Spencer’s gut twisted with want.

“I’ve had enough,” he rasped, voice thick from smoke. Brendon sat back. “We can’t go back again.” Brendon sort of deflated a little before him, but Spencer kept talking. “What’s done is done. We can let it destroy us, or it can make us. I didn’t think, before, of the consequences.” Spencer swept a hand through his hair and sighed. “I just wanted—and you finally—god, Brendon. I don’t even know anymore.”

“We can make it,” Brendon said confidently. “You, me, the band. I want it all.”

“Don’t you always?” Spencer wondered cynically, his head tipping back against the couch.

“This time I’m going to get it.”

***

The light shining through the curtains in Brendon’s bedroom was bright. It was going to be a beautiful day in Los Angeles, and Spencer stretched luxuriously, thinking about what that day had in store. He turned and could just see Brendon standing at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth. Spencer couldn’t help but think of the last time he woke in Brendon’s bed, but he smiled. It was ancient history.

Brendon returned to bed with a spring in his step, diving under the covers and reaching for Spencer with cold hands. Spencer yelped, kicking and flailing and completely failing to protect any of the soft ticklish places from Brendon’s advances. He caught at Brendon’s wrists finally, pinning him down and bringing the attack to a halt. Brendon smiled up at him, brighter than the sunshine streaming through the windows.

 _I’m in love with you_ , Spencer thought as he looked down at Brendon. He had no intention of telling him, and hell, knowing Brendon he probably knew already.

“You’re mine,” is what he said instead. Brendon could take it any way he liked, but the look in his eyes told Spencer that it was less a victory in their small wrestling match and more along the lines of what was kicking around in his head.

“And you’re mine,” Brendon said softly. Spencer bent his head to kiss him gently, though it only stayed that way for a moment. Brendon deepened the kiss, tongue curling and stroking til Spencer pulled back with a gasp, resting his head on Brendon’s shoulder. They merely breathed together for a long time, still and quiet until Brendon broke the silence. “I need you to keep time for me. More than just _the band_. I need to know when I’ve got it wrong. I need you to tell me.”

Spencer stayed quiet for a while, just letting Brendon card his fingers through his hair. He could hear Brendon’s heart beating if he tried hard enough.

“You broke my heart, B,” he whispered into Brendon’s neck. It raised goosebumps, and he could feel Brendon’s heart fluttering. “But I don’t care. I love you,” he said so softly it was barely more than his lips brushing Brendon’s skin. “I couldn’t take it again if you--”

“I won’t,” Brendon promised, lips at Spencer’s ear and arms tightening around him. “I didn’t see it happening, Spence. I’m so stupid; you see why I need you? I wanted you for so long and I didn’t know--” Brendon’s voice cracked and he took a breath. “You’re just... a mystery. I need you to help me figure it out.”

“Ok,” Spencer replied, letting Brendon clutch him. “Ok.”


End file.
